


Saddle Up

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Castiel, Confident Cas, Dean Has a Cowboy Kink, Fingering, Flirty Cas, Light Angst, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Making Out, Meet-Cute, Nerd Benny, Openly Bisexual Dean, Panty Kink, Riding, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, Shy Dean, mentioned past dean/others, this is a cowboy fic you knew this was happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: As the last few notes of ‘Physical Graffiti’ play through his headphones, Dean opens up the menu and starts scrolling to find something else. He absently notes that the train is slowing to a stop and the doors are opening and closing.A pair of legs comes toward him and Dean instinctually shifts his weight to make room for the other passenger. When they move to sit down in the empty seat across from him, Dean moves his legs further out of the way to accommodate.It’s only after they’ve settled in that Dean notices the pair of legs are wearing jeans that do wonders, no, miracles for the thick thighs they’re wrapped around, and that on their feet are a pair of beautiful brown cowboy boots. Dean knows before he looks any higher up that this person is going to be a major hottie.Fuck.“Major hottie” doesn’t even comeclose.





	Saddle Up

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to share this with y'all! It was written for the profoundnet's Flipfest challenge, where I had to write a deancas fic with some common tropes flipped around. And yes the title is precisely the lyric you're thinking of and for precisely that reason. ;)
> 
> katie, busy, and janet are big ol' enablers…and once foxy joined in as my artist this fic blew up! I’m so ~~exhausted~~ lucky! Foxy's art is embedded throughout and you can reblog her art masterpost on tumblr [here](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/post/174443528363/)
> 
> fwiw I totally made up the trains. Yes, there is a “Crossroads” stop on the Kansas City metro train system but I just picked that because, well, duh. Actual location unknown, unimportant. And I based the design more on my experience with the Denver Lightrail, which has trains running into downtown from the suburbs in all directions for commuters. This was actually inspired by one of my commuting experiences, although no cowboy-related smut followed irl! 
> 
> Original prompt: “other instances where my life is a deancas AU: there’s a huge rodeo show in town. Dude who just sat down across from me on the train is wearing cowboy boots and hat.”  
>  Katie replied: “omg its cas. youre dean. they dont speak but dean’s invited to the show and it turns out the hot dude on the train who smiled at dean is a huge star. they make out. the end.” 
> 
> …they do talk but not much, I hope that’s okay!! They definitely make out later so hopefully that appeases you 

  


Taking the train to work has become so routine. Swipe his card for entry, stand on the platform, and shuffle along to more deserted areas as necessary. It’s the same when the train pulls up: climb on and sit quickly, facing the window determinedly. Dean learned quickly that headphones are the best tool for keeping strangers from talking to you, or most of them, anyway. If it’s not that busy, try to spread out over the whole bench so no one will try to sit with you (even worse than trying to talk to you).

So each morning and afternoon passes much the same, plus a quick walk to and from the station and his home and his work. His home is a not very homey or well-furnished bachelor pad if he’s being honest, and his walks are even worse, now.

Dean has suffered two significant losses lately.

The first was Sam moving out, officially, and signing a lease out in Palo Alto. He’s so damn proud of his little brother but the empty space at their parents’ dinner table sucks. It will be a difficult adjustment for all of them. The second is no less severe: the death of his Walkman.

It’s been a long road but the old boy never let him down…until yesterday morning. Dean had cursed all the way to the nearest tech store to purchase one of these stupid iPods everyone keeps talking about. _Touchscreens._ Ugh.

Okay, fine, it’s got a nice capacity for having nearly all of his music at his fingertips. The stuff on CDs, anyway, his vinyls are safe at home. Which he can now play at top volume whenever he wants and Sam won’t be there to whine about it. Silver linings, right?

Dean sighs, rubbing his tired eyes and staring out the window. The buildings of downtown Kansas City fly past him, the commuter train whirring quickly down the tracks. As the last few notes of ‘Physical Graffiti’ play through his headphones, Dean opens up the menu and starts scrolling to find something else. He absently notes that the train is slowing to a stop and the doors are opening and closing.

A pair of legs comes toward him and Dean instinctually shifts his weight to make room for the other passenger. When they move to sit down in the empty seat across from him, Dean moves his legs further out of the way to accommodate.

It’s only after they’ve settled in that Dean notices the pair of legs are wearing jeans that do wonders, no, _miracles_ for the thick thighs they’re wrapped around, and that on their feet are a pair of beautiful brown cowboy boots. Dean knows before he looks any higher up that this person is going to be a major hottie.

 _Fuck._ “Major hottie” doesn’t even come _close._

The man’s broad chest is covered by a light blue button down, clean and crisp. He’s wearing a silver bolo tie and his cuffs are perfect, framing big hands that rest casually against his knees. His skin is warm and tan there as well as at his neck and on his cheeks. Cheeks which are sporting a nice five o’clock shadow all the way down a wide jaw that could cut glass. High cheekbones and dark curly hair and a goddamn _cowboy hat._ It’s a nice Stetson, its wide brim casting a bit of a shadow over the top half of the man’s face. But nothing could cover up the piercing color of his eyes. The powder blue of his shirt makes his eyes look like stars, twinkling ice, or sunshine on a vast body of water. They are hypnotizing and beautiful, just like the rest of him.

This is the moment Dean realizes he is quite literally ogling the poor man and he quickly drops his gaze back to the iPod. His hand and jaw had gone slack so Dean clears his throat and grips the device tightly, scrolling without even reading.

Since the music has long since stopped playing, Dean can clearly hear when the man across from him says, “excuse me?”

Dean’s head whips back up so quickly that he internally kicks himself for looking like a buffoon. “Uh, yes?”

The guy smiles and Dean’s knees go weak even though he’s already sitting down. “Would you mind telling me when we’ll get to the Crossroads stop?” Fuck, he’s got the cutest hint of a Southern accent and everything.

“Oh, sure.” Dean plucks his headphones out of his ears and holds them in his lap. He glances out the window in the hopes that it will calm his elevated blood pressure. “It won’t be long now.”

“That’s good.” The man settles back a bit in his seat, his legs spread wide and _holy shit Winchester don’t you dare look at this stranger’s crotch…_

“So… What brings you to Kansas City?” Dean stutters.

Blue Eyes raises a single eyebrow at him and Dean will never need another porn site ever again as long as he has _that_ mental image. _Shit._ “I’m amused that you could tell I’m not from here. Not sure what gave it away though.” Oh, God, a _wink._ Dean is so screwed, and not in the way he _really wants_ to be screwed. “I’m here for the rodeo. Have you heard about it?”

“Oh, um, yeah, actually. I’ve seen some ads.”

“That’s good.” He smiles kindly at Dean. “And what brings you to this particular train today?”

Dean gestures to the uniform jacket he’s wearing and explains, “I work security at the Performing Arts Center. I’ve just clocked out, actually, so I’m heading home.”

The guy actually _tips his hat_ at Dean and, honestly, why is that so hot? “Good on you.”

“Heh. Thanks.” Dean fiddles with the cord for his headphones, casting his eyes down at them and back up at the stranger. The guy is just smiling at him, then his eyes flicker over Dean’s body in a way that is unmistakably flirtatious. Dean fumbles for something, _anything_ to say. But the truth is that he’s never really been comfortable starting up a conversation with a perfect stranger. Not to mention the very public setting and the way that this guy looks like he just walked off the set of a modeling gig or any one of Dean’s wet dreams regarding cowboys.

Then the obnoxiously loud announcement plays in their train car. _Welcome to the Crossroads station. Please move to the center of the train to make room for boarding passengers. Next stop: Yale. Thank you for riding KC Metro Transit._

Cowboy looks around himself with something like surprise on his features before he actually frowns at the doors. Dean flushes, realizing that now he’s wasted any opportunity to flirt back.

“Um, have a good one,” he says clumsily, the words tripping over his tongue on their way out in a rush. But the man doesn’t seem put off by Dean’s weird shyness. In fact, he just smiles, showing off nice white teeth between perfectly pink lips.

“You too, stranger,” he says, rising to his feet when the train slows to a stop. The doors slide open and the cowboy strides out on long legs. When he reaches the platform, he turns and looks back through the window. Dean had totally ogled that beautiful backside the whole way and is now caught out in his staring, making him flush again. Before he can look away though, the man tips his hat once more.

The train speeds away, leaving Dean staring in astonishment out of the window. He wishes he’d had the wherewithal just to ask the man for his name, a tiny thing to remember him by. Then again, he won’t be forgetting those beautifully muscled thighs any time soon.

Dean’s just taken some leftover pasta out of the microwave when he hears his phone ringing. Now, where did he put that stupid thing? It’s not on the kitchen or bathroom counter and it’s not sitting next to the record player or the TV. He makes his way to the door and finds it still inside his coat pocket along with his transit pass and that damned iPod with its tangled up earbuds and weird clicky buttons.

The phone call that had timed out several minutes ago was from Benny. Dean loves Benny like a brother but he’s half-hoping it wasn’t serious and they can chat another time.

While he’s still holding it, a new text message comes in with a buzz.

**Message From: Benny  
Hey Dean just calling to see if you’re free. Won tix to the rodeo! Call me back**

The first part of the text makes Dean freeze up. There’s nothing worse than your plans for solitude being interrupted before they even begin, plus he can’t act like he didn’t see it when it now literally says _read_ underneath the little bubble. Damn phones these days.

Then again, these particular plans include going to a rodeo. After his little encounter earlier this afternoon, seeing some more cowboys in action might be just what the doctor ordered.

Rather than calling, Dean texts Benny back for the details and to ask for a ride. Like hell is Dean driving anywhere near downtown at this time of day when the roads are swamped with vehicles and pedestrians and whatever else. Yikes. Thankfully, Benny loves his truck and any excuse to go out and to drag Dean right along with him. So Dean abandons his hot bath and book in favor of a crowded, alcohol-soaked rodeo, all to satisfy the cowboy kink.

He and Benny squeeze into their seats just as the national anthem is wrapping up, the din of wild applause and cheering covering the last few notes. Dean scrunches his nose at the smelly and halfway-to-belligerent fellows next to him and makes a mental note of where the nearest restroom is located. Benny flicks through the paper program they’d been handed at the door with interest.

“Oh good, that guy Novak is here. I heard he’s having an incredible year, _again.”_

“Uh huh.” Dean is now watching the beer chugging some pimple-faced boys are engaged in just a few rows down from them. He’s pretty sure there’s more beer on the floor than in their mouths but the excited cheering seems to continue regardless.

“Anna Milton, the twins Uriel and Raphael, oh, they’ve got Naomi _and_ Bartholomew here as well! This is awesome, Dean.”

“I’m riveted,” Dean replies in a perfect monotone. It’s been less than five minutes and he’s not very impressed.

“Ah, forget the crowd,” Benny says, patting him on the shoulder. “Just you wait until the cowboys are up there, _then_ you’ll be interested.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Dean grins at his friend. “That radio station gave you the tickets huh?”

Benny shakes his head. “Nah, it was through work. I put in for the drawing a while back. Figured they would’ve told me sooner but oh well.” He shrugs.

“Oh, that’s cool though. Glad we could make it.”

“Thanks for coming out, brother.” Benny claps him on the back, smiling broadly. Their attention is drawn back to the arena floor by a voice on the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” the emcee shouts, “welcome to the Kansas City Stampede! We have an incredible lineup for y’all to enjoy tonight. Don’t forget to fill out and turn in the flyer in that there program you got in yer hand and you could win a behind the scenes experience tonight. Now, I could keep talkin’ at ya but wouldn’t y’all rather see them buckin’ broncos an’ wild steers?” The crowd roars in agreement and Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes at the overdone accent. “I thought so! Well, then let’s git to it!”

Suddenly, a steer bursts through a set of doors at the far end of the ring and runs quickly across the arena. Two cowboys on horseback exit right behind the animal, each with a rope in his hands. The crowd yells encouragement as, within minutes, the pair lasso and capture the steer between them with grace and agility. A number flashes on the screen to indicate their score, and the crowd shouts their approval, including Benny.

“That’s those twins,” he tells Dean, “they do well every year. Really good riders.”

“Yeah, that looked pretty cool,” Dean replies, “I’m sure it takes a lot of practice to work together like that.”

“Absolutely,” Benny agrees. Glancing at his program again, Benny plucks the flyer the emcee had mentioned and rummages in his jacket pocket for a pen. He hurriedly fills his information out before handing Dean his pen. Dean sighs and takes his own program in hand to find the flyer.

“I never win these things,” he grumbles, but Benny’s attention is already back on the riders. Another few pairs try their hand at team roping, which is followed by calf roping. Benny explains things to the best of his ability, but Dean is pretty much only concerned with observing the athleticism and… Oh, who is he kidding? He’s checking out the hot cowboys and nobody can judge him for it.

Benny hands Dean a twenty and begs him to go and find them some decent beer. Apparently, he doesn’t want to risk missing anything good by walking to the concession stand and back. Dean gripes but he goes anyway, taking their flyers at Benny’s insistence and turning them in at the designated desk. The baby-faced teenager manning that particular post gives him a big thumbs up before dropping their papers into a bowl containing dozens of others. After that, Dean heads to the concessions to buy two bottles of beer, and also a hot pretzel for himself. He makes his way through the crowd back to the arena and locates Benny with no problem, although he does have to side-step the kids he noticed earlier who are, by this point, well and truly drunk off their asses. Dean sends up a prayer that neither of them starts puking, or if they do that they make it to the bathroom first.

They watch steer wrestling and barrel racing next, with a variety of riders earning high scores for their efforts. Dean has to close his eyes watching some of the steer wrestling events; it’s very intense to watch someone fling themselves off of their horse and (hopefully) onto a cow who is running at full tilt to avoid them. He’s surprised there aren’t more competitors face planting right into the dust, breaking their nose or worse upon impact. Benny warns him that it could happen, which is enough to set Dean’s teeth on edge. How do people _do this_ professionally?

Barrel racing is very cool to watch, as is bronc riding. Dean lets out a very manly giggle when he learns that bronc riding is split into two events: saddle riding and _bareback riding._ Benny does his best to appear unamused, but Dean knows him too well for that.

Some of Benny’s favorites like the twins and Hester do a truly spectacular job. There are two ‘rodeo clowns’ who are holding their own in the ring as well. They go by Gabe and Charlie and seem to be some mad combination of fearless, energetic, and hilarious. Through every event, they keep the crowd entertained, make jokes at the expense of every cowboy and cowgirl, even making fun of the audience at times, up until the bull riding event. Benny would be on the edge of his seat if he wasn’t already standing up. Dean stands as well, feeling the tension of the crowd.

Then, a group of people including the emcee come out onto the arena floor carrying a large glass bowl. Dean observes that this must be all of the flyers from the entire audience who entered into the drawing to get behind the scenes.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” the emcee says, “and thank you to our sponsors.” He gestures to the people behind him, and a man in a suit waves his hand at the politely clapping audience before reaching into the glass bowl. “Our winner tonight,” the emcee continues, “and up to two guests will receive a special bonus event after tonight’s performances conclude. They will come to our backstage area, get a chance to meet some of the competitors, and get up close and personal with some of our animals.” The man who’d drawn out a flyer moves forward to pass it along to the emcee. “Here we go, folks! Tonight’s winner is…Dean Winchester, whose address is right here in Kansas City. Congratulations, Dean!”

“Me?” Dean looks at Benny, stunned.

“It’s you, buddy! You won!” Benny wraps him in a big hug. A family nearby overhears and offers their congratulations as well. Dean blushes furiously and accepts with a pleased smile. It’s not every day he gets a chance to meet some real-life cowboys.

“They’re all so nice,” the woman gushes, “I’ve met these two clowns before. They’re very sweet. Sometimes when they are tired the riders are quieter, but they are exhausted, you understand.” Dean nods. “But they’re usually happy to take pictures or sign autographs! You’re very lucky,” she raves.

“It’s gonna be awesome, brother,” Benny says. “I wonder who all we’ll be able to meet.”

“Hopefully all of them,” Dean replies, “hope you brought your keepsake autograph book.” Benny snorts but then he looks contemplative, and Dean just knows he’s thinking about what exactly he’ll ask them to sign for him to take home. Dean’s just glad he can share this experience with his friend.

The emcee is finishing up a short speech thanking sponsors and making other sorts of obligatory statements, having invited the crowd back for the second day of the Stampede. It’s clear to Dean that bull riding is the main event of the rodeo. It also seems to be, at least according to Benny’s description, to be the most dangerous event.

“Tell me I’m not about to watch someone die out there, Benny.”

“You will probably not see anyone die,” Benny replies very reassuringly. “Deaths are not quite as common as you’d think, especially not when you’re as talented as Castiel Novak.”

“As who now?”

“He’s the best bull rider out there,” Benny says a little impatiently, “just shut up and watch.”

Dean smirks at his best friend and makes a mental note to bring this up next time Benny teases _him_ for being a nerd about Star Trek or Lord of the Rings. When he looks back at the dirt floor of the arena, he is just in time to watch a man in an all-black outfit jump from a platform at the far end of the ring onto a huge beast. Even while the door is still shut, Dean can tell it is _angry._

The cowboy puts one hand in the air, and it’s game on.

The bull bursts through the doors and charges forward, jumping and twisting in the air. The cowboy sitting on top of it expertly keeps one hand on the rope. Dean can see he’s wearing a thick leather glove with that hand and he hasn’t the foggiest idea how that or the stupid hat stays on his head. Shouldn’t he be wearing something to actually protect his head, like a helmet? Do cowboys have death wishes or are they just mad? He’s clearly talented, his body contorting in order to keep him upright and on top of the wild animal. From this distance, Dean can tell the bull rider is very good-looking; the leather chaps are particularly drool-worthy.

Eight agonizing seconds later, the buzzer rings loudly and the crowd explodes with cheers and applause. The clowns Gabe and Charlie race out in front of the animal and jump around to keep the bull’s attention away from the cowboy who is now expertly dismounting and jogging to the fence. As he comes closer, Dean makes a startling observation.

“Holy shit, Benny, that’s the hot guy from the train!”

“Yeah!” Benny continues cheering, totally oblivious to Dean’s crisis.

Holy _fuck._ The hottie he’d looked like an idiot in front of has turned out to be the star of the show. And based on Benny’s fanboy explanation of the guy, it sounds like he’s really famous in the world of rodeo. Is that even a thing?

Dean watches Castiel hoist himself until over the railing, taking in the way his muscles strain against the black button-down he’s wearing. Dean had noticed the cherry red boots when Castiel was riding, and they’re even more beautiful now that he knows how pretty Castiel is up close. Not to mention that he’s polite and friendly and—

“Wait a minute, is he going to be at the meet and greet?” Dean wonders.

“I fuckin’ hope so!” Benny says, “he’s the best. I’ll probably look like a fool but I don’t care, I’d love to meet him.”

Dean swallows with some difficulty now that his heart has climbed up into his throat.

Benny insists on taking a couple of photos from their seats, so Dean tolerates a couple of selfies before taking the phone away and snapping pictures of Benny alone. Eventually, moving with the crowd, they make their way back to the stand where Dean had turned in their flyers for entry. The kid at the desk smiles at them.

“Are you Dean?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Can I get your ID as verification please?” the teenager asks politely.

“Sure,” Dean replies and hands it over.

“I’m Alfie,” the kid introduces himself with a nod before returning Dean’s ID. “Please follow me backstage.”

They walk through hallways dedicated to the rodeo and to famous cowboys and cowgirls who’ve competed here. Benny offers his remarks on a couple and Dean quietly appreciates. This turn of events is still fairly mind-blowing, and Dean’s not sure he’s prepared for—

“Okay, here we are!” Alfie ushers them through a plain black door and into a lounge area. The emcee and the sponsors are already here, chatting and pouring themselves drinks. Alfie walks timidly toward him. “Sir? The contest winner and his guest are here.”

“Thank you, Alfie. And welcome, Dean!” Their host walks over with a bright smile. “I’m Cesar, and you are?”

“Benny Lafitte,” Dean introduces his star-struck friend. “He’s a big fan.”

“Well, that’s great!” Cesar exclaims. “These gentlemen here are Mick Davies and Rufus Turner, two of our corporate sponsors. The four of them shake hands just as a couple more people enter the room. Alfie holds the door before politely excusing himself at Cesar’s direction to go and _“rustle up some more of those cowboys.”_ Dean’s not sure the accent is real, but he can’t fault Cesar’s enthusiasm and commitment to his role.

Benny appears to be on cloud nine, shaking hands with Hester and Cain, two prominent competitors tonight in the saddle bronc riding. Or so Dean gathers from their conversation; there’s no way he’d be able to keep everyone’s name, face, and event straight. A couple other sponsors arrive and Alfie returns with Anna, Bartholomew, and eventually the twins.

And then _he_ walks in.

Castiel Novak is chuckling quietly at something Alfie must have said right before they entered the room, and then he pats the kid on the shoulder. Alfie looks like his eyes are about to turn into big cartoon hearts, and Dean can’t blame him. To be the sole focus of that megawatt smile would turn anyone’s knees into mush.

Castiel’s black button-down clings to his shoulder enticingly, the red stitching accenting his pecs and drawing the eye down his broad chest. His cuffs feature a row of shiny buttons, and Dean can easily imagine all the very sexy contexts in which Castiel might unbutton and roll up his sleeves. Undo the silver bolo tie and some of the buttons at his throat. Tight black jeans show off his gorgeous thighs, and the look is complete with those beautiful red boots and the matching hat. The man is a walking work of art with flawless five o’clock shadow.

Dean’s practically drooling by the time Castiel makes his way over to where they are standing. Castiel finally looks up at him from behind the brim of his hat and then freezes. Recognition flashes in his too-blue eyes before a slow smile creeps over his features.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” If Dean was an heiress in a Victorian-era novel, he’d have fainted on the spot at the sound of Castiel’s gravel voice. “It’s the cutie from the train.”

Dean feels his jaw drop open and his cheeks heat with a blush. _Holy shit,_ Castiel Novak did not just call him a “cutie.”

Benny nudges his shoulder quite forcefully, drawing both Dean’s and Cas’s attention. “What’s all this?” Benny asks.

“M—met him on the train,” Dean stammers, looking back at Castiel. His brow is furrowed, taking in the way Benny is leaning into their conversation with a displeased expression. Dean wants to make Castiel smile again.

“That’s crazy! What a small world,” Benny says, introducing himself to Castiel. He seems oblivious to the slight tension. Castiel doesn’t draw it out, smiling and shaking Benny’s hand politely, and his eyes quickly returning to Dean’s.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asks.

“Boy, did we!” Benny exclaims. Again, oblivious. “All of it was so amazing. Especially you though, Castiel, uh, Mister Novak.”

Castiel nods tightly, sparing him only the briefest glance. “And you won the contest, then?” In the silence, Dean realizes he’d never introduced himself.

“Oh!” Embarrassment floods through him. “Yes, I did. I’m Dean Winchester.” Castiel takes his hand carefully between both of his ( _oh, fuck, his hands are huge and calloused and—_ ) bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you properly,” Castiel says. His eyes are burning with intensity and Dean is helpless to look away. He thinks he can hear Benny’s inhale but he’s not sure what his friend’s reaction is here—surprise? Confusion? Something else?

“Gentleman!” Cesar booms from directly next to them, completely interrupting the moment. “I’m so glad you two’ve met Castiel. He’s going to Nationals again this year, mark my words.”

“You’re too kind, Mister Cuevas. I can only do my best, just like anyone else,” Castiel replies, still looking at Dean.

“Have you met our sponsors yet, Castiel? I really should introduce you.”

Annoyance flashes quickly over Castiel’s features but he glances at Cesar and answers in the affirmative. He squeezes Dean’s fingers gently and looks at him with rounded eyes. “I won’t be long,” he promises, “grab a drink. Hang out. I’ll be back soon.” Then, he is whisked away to the other side of the room. Dean exhales, feeling strangely nervous.

He looks at Benny. “So, drinks?”

Benny stares back at him, a smile growing. “Dean? What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Dean hesitates. “I don’t really know, actually?”

“It kinda seems like you do,” Benny insists, “seems like you two know each other pretty well.”

“I met him earlier today, dude!” Dean pulls on Benny’s sleeve until they are standing by the refreshments and won’t be overheard. “When I was taking the train home from work, this stupidly hot guy in a cowboy outfit sits down across from me. And we talked a bit. Turns out that guy was _Castiel Novak.”_

Benny looks unconvinced. “That seems…pretty far-fetched. Dude was looking at you just now like he wanted to eat you.”

Dean flushes. “I mean…” Benny hits him.

“Ugh, TMI, brother.” But he’s grinning. “I guess…if that’s what you want. Can’t really say I blame you, he’s a good-looking guy.”

“You’re damn right.” Dean sneaks a look over Benny’s shoulder to where Castiel is standing with some other people. He wishes he’d gotten to see Castiel in his chaps up close…

“Look, Dean, I’m a little worried, okay?” Dean looks at Benny in confusion. “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again so soon, after…”

“Oh, well,” Dean stutters, “this is different.”

“It’s different,” Benny repeats in a monotone.

“Yeah, I mean.” Dean stalls for time to think. “Amara was, like, not ready for a relationship. So.”

“So. you two had sex, which is fine, except that _you_ wanted a relationship and got your heart broken over it.”

“C’mon, Benny, it was hardly—”

“And then there was Max Banes from sophomore year who flirted with you for weeks and then awkwardly tried to set you up with his sister. And in high school, it was Cassie Robinson and that stupid truck. What about Lisa Braeden? Aaron Bass? Face it, Dean, you always go into these things with your heart on your sleeve and people don’t appreciate that. You end up getting hurt and I hate seeing you like that, brother.”

“Okay, enough of this,” Dean says firmly. “Benny, you’re my best friend and I love you, but this is completely a different thing and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He grabs the nearest beer bottle. “Go find someone to talk to and I’ll follow.” Benny looks skeptical but he goes and eventually strikes up a conversation with Anna Milton. Dean is content to simply listen; he’s not great at navigating big social engagements like these all by himself.

But Benny’s words about his past heartache and about Castiel bounce around in his head. Is Castiel really attracted to _him?_ Or is it just sex? Benny seems to think it’s the latter. What should Dean do about that? Obviously, he’s attracted right back, so should he make a move? Oh, God, what would he even do to show his interest? Plus, Castiel must get, like, a hundred offers every single day. As if he’s really going to pick the shy security guard over any of these other rodeo people, or over one of his actually dedicated fans? Dean didn’t recognize him when they’d met on the train; he must have looked like an idiot. Let’s just pretend though that Castiel _would_ go for it. Then they fuck and, let’s face it, it would probably hurt and only be marginally satisfying, just like any other roll in the hay Dean’s ever had. But he’d get off and he’d get Castiel off and then they’d go home happy, right? Would Dean be fine with never seeing Castiel again? With only having that one memory to hold on to?

Lost in thought, he’s startled when Castiel appears at his elbow.

“Hi.” The dashing cowboy grin is back. “Miss me?”

“Um,” Dean stammers, “uh, yes? Uh…”

“You’re real cute when you blush,” Castiel tells him, and Dean blushes harder. He’s probably about the same shade of red as Castiel’s hat and boots. “So, be honest, did you really enjoy the show? Was it your first time at a rodeo?”

“Yeah, uhm, I’ve never seen a show before but I thought it was, y’know, great. It was fun to watch all the different events,” Dean replies. “Benny knows more, though. He won the tickets, was explaining everything to me. The crowd loved you,” he gushes, then feels embarrassed.

“Aw, that’s kind of you to say,” Castiel says. “Guess I’m more interested in you, though. You said your…friend invited you?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “I’ve known Benny since middle school. We grew up around here, actually.”

“Long time then,” Castiel says, and Dean can’t read his expression. “Hope I’m not stealing you away.”

“Oh, no.” Dean doesn’t have to look around to know that Benny is chatting up the clown Gabriel, who just walked into the lounge and is watching Dean and Castiel and trying to be subtle about it. “He’s just being nosy.”

“Trying to defend your honor?” Castiel teases.

“Something like that,” Dean says mildly, sipping his drink. Castiel’s eyes fall to his lips again, making the hair on Dean’s arms stand up. He’s flustered—not to mention getting aroused—just from having Castiel’s _eyes_ on him.

“Hello there.” Dean startles as a man has just materialized to his left, beaming at the pair of them. “Hi, Castiel, and, uh, Dean, was it? The contest winner?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Dean smiles politely. “And you are?”

“Ah, forgive me,” the British guy chirps. “I’m Mick Davies. My group is one of the biggest sponsors of the Stampede every year.”

“That’s great.” Dean glances at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. He’s wearing a plastic-looking smile.

“How are you, Mick?”

“Oh, just swell,” Mick replies, leaning casually toward Castiel. “Listen, darling, I’d _love_ to get a look around the place. See where you’re training and all that. What do you think?”

Dean observes the way Mick is positioning himself near Castiel, takes in the way he lets his eyes linger on Castiel’s body, the hopeful tone of his voice when he asks for a “tour.” Right.

His stomach drops a bit, disappointment settling in. He’s about to excuse himself when Castiel replies, “I think it best to stay and enjoy the party, don’t you agree?”

There’s a tense silence while Mick straightens up a bit and glances at Dean. “You know where to find me when you come to your senses,” Mick says bitterly. Then, he departs as quickly as he’d arrived.

Dean is confused, his eyes darting back to Castiel, who simply exhales and takes another sip from his plastic cup.

“What are you drinking, Castiel?” Dean asks for want of something better to say.

“Bourbon,” Castiel replies, “and, please, call me Cas.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” He blushes again and hesitates, unsure what to say next.

“This will sound like a godawful line,” Cas says with a laugh, “but, do you take the train often?”

Dean laughs, too, just to break the tension. “Yeah, actually, the Performing Arts Center has its own stop and there’s one close to my apartment, so it works out. I’m not a fan of driving, so I avoid it when I can. Save the Earth a little bit with public transportation, you know.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Cas replies.

“Don’t make fun,” Dean chides, “the Earth is very important. To…take care of, and such. You know how it is.”

“Of course.” Cas smiles. “I wouldn’t dream of mocking your dedication to our natural environment. I suppose you’re on a number of committees?”

“Absolutely,” Dean agrees, “signing petitions, protesting, um, writing letters, calling my representatives. Don’t you laugh! This is serious business.”

Cas covers his mouth with one hand. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to make fun. I can see this is quite the issue.”

“It is.” Dean turns up his nose. “You ought to show me some respect.”

Cas’s blue eyes glitter dangerously. “Is that so?”

Dean clams up nervously, easy banter only manageable for so long. “Mhm,” he manages, blushing again, damned pale skin. They look at each other for a long moment before Cas brings his bourbon back to his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’d like a tour of the facilities?”

“What?

“Since I just told Mick to leave me alone, I’d imagine he’d cause quite the fuss if we left now,” Cas muses, seemingly unaware of Dean’s surprise. “We’ll just have to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Dean asks.

Cas leans in, their chests brushing as Cas whispers in his ear, “for later, when I can have you all to myself.”

Dean grips his cup so tightly he worries briefly about breaking it and blushes furiously, of course.

The stables are well-lit, very bright even though it’s past sunset. Cas leads him down the wide hallway pointing out individual horses to Dean. They slow to a stop in front of one in particular.

She’s a tall beast with an inky black coat and tail, not a single spot on her. Cas pats her nose and says, “hey, baby. That guy there is Dean. Can you say hi? Dean, come over, she’s very nice. This is Impala.”

“Like the deer?” he wonders.

Cas laughs. “Uh, no, the car, actually. You’re not a deer, are you girl?” he baby-talks and kisses the horse’s nose as Dean inches closer. “Don’t worry,” Cas says to him, taking his hand. He brings Dean’s palm up to rest beside his own on Impala’s nose. She regards him with large, intelligent eyes, bumping them before she drops her head to a basket of food hanging on the door. Cas watches her fondly for a minute before he gestures to a bench outside her door. “Sit with me?” he asks.

It’s not particularly long or wide, but they make it work. Dean swallows his nerves and sits pressed close to Cas, observing the rugged cowboy in his element.

“You love it here,” he says.

Cas grins. “I really do. Fell in love with the sport, with the whole atmosphere, and I never looked back.”

“And your family?”

“It’s just been me and my mom for a while now,” Cas says, “and she’s great. Still gets nervous about the injuries and whatnot, but that’s normal. She retired to Austin so we get to see each other as often as we want to when I’m not training.” He looks at Dean. “What about you?”

“My brother attended Stanford for undergrad and now it looks like he’s staying out there,” Dean replies, “landed a gig he’d been hoping for, getting his own place, all that jazz. He always came home on his breaks and usually spent his weekends with me. I’m not sure what to do without him now, y’know?” He takes a deep breath. “Anyway, Mom and Dad live in their little house with the white picket fence outside of Lawrence, which is sort of a smaller town west of here.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” Cas says earnestly. He seems to hesitate for a just a moment before placing one of his huge hands on Dean’s thigh. “But I know you two will make time for each other. It sounds like you’re really close.”

“Definitely,” Dean agrees, fighting the raging butterflies that started to swarm at Cas’s touch. He lifts his face from where he’d been looking down at his lap and realizes their faces are very close together. He watches Cas’s eyes drop to his parted lips and he inhales shakily.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs. Dean’s heart pounds against his ribs and he nods. His eyes flutter shut as Cas leans in the rest of the way, his free hand coming up to Dean’s cheek. Dean’s knees feel weak even though he’s already sitting down, his body twisting to face Cas.

Suddenly, Cas pulls back and begins to stand, and Dean feels his heart come to a dead stop. _What did he do wrong?_ But then he realizes that Cas was only adjusting himself, swinging his left leg over the bench in a straddle. When he sits back down, he scoots in very close, and tugs Dean to him, bringing their lips together for another passionate kiss. Cas’s scruff rubs his chin and Dean happily loses himself in kiss after kiss, letting his hands roam once he’s been brought into the circle of Cas’s arms. He’s so _thick_ and muscled, sculpted biceps, broad shoulders, toned back, and just the tiniest bit of fluff at his midsection. Dean’s hard as a diamond in his jeans just from making out and some light petting but, in the back of his mind, he knows what’s coming.

Dean starts mentally mapping out what’s going to happen next. Cas will pull back again and start saying the same things people always say to Dean, whether they’re actually having sex or they’re just propositioning him. Compliment his lips, his Disney princess eyes, talk about what they want in bed; Cas will ask him for sex. That part specifically is new, but Dean figures it’s accurate since Cas asked to kiss him. At any rate, Cas is going to want him on his belly, ass up, maybe he’ll want Dean to beg or to say specific (and dirty) things to get him off. And while it’s true Dean is very much interested in getting Cas off, he’s not thrilled about everything else that will go into it. He’s not looking forward to the pain tomorrow, much less the loneliness tonight.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas says between kisses, “stunning, actually. I thought about you all day. I was so bummed I had missed my chance. And then you were here tonight, it’s amazing.” Cas leans back just enough for eye contact, his hat tilted back a bit, his smile wide and gummy. “You’re amazing.”

“You don’t even know me,” Dean says before he can think better of it.

Cas just chuckles, his big hands still framing Dean’s face. “What I know so far I like a lot. Here’s what else I want to know is…” He pulls Dean in for another kiss, hard and passionate as ever. Dean’s just getting into it when they break apart. “Do you want to top or bottom?”

“Mm?” Dean’s a little slow on the uptake. Did Cas really just ask if Dean wants to top him?

“Top.” Cas leans in, kissing a wet line up Dean’s neck. “Or.” Grazing his Adam’s apple. “Bottom?” Nibbling his earlobe. Dean shivers.

“I…like to bottom,” Dean admits. Maybe if he topped a guy it would be different. Maybe not, though, and Dean isn’t lying, he really does like it when he uses a dildo on himself.

“Okay,” Cas says easily. He pulls Dean in again, kissing the breath out of his lungs. Cas guides him to mirror his position, straddling the bench and also Cas himself. Dean blushes a bit at being so exposed to Cas’s touch, at the urge to rub his crotch against Cas’s hips. “May I?” Dean looks down to see Cas’s fingers in his belt loops and he nods.

Cas untucks both of their shirts from their jeans and he undoes the buttons on Dean’s before going for his belt buckle. Dean reaches over to reciprocate on Cas. Finally reaching the top button, Dean does a double take at Cas’s bolo tie.

“Is that…wings?” he asks.

“Yes, they are.” Cas smiles fondly. “Angel wings for my angel name; Castiel or Cassiel, I’ve heard it both ways. Do you like it?”

Dean touches the delicate-looking silver wings and decides yes, he likes them very much. On someone else it would probably look really stupid but Cas pulls it off. He slowly undoes the tie, letting the cord slide around Cas’s throat and watching his pupils dilate. When he’s finally finished unbuttoning, he pushes back both sides of Cas’s shirt to reveal his toned chest. He moans and kisses Cas again, first his plush lips and then his scruffy jaw, running his hands up and down the smooth skin of his chest. Cas is right there with him, unzipping Dean’s fly with one hand and gripping his ass with the other.

“Don’t you dare take off that hat or your boots,” Dean threatens, standing up. He kicks one of his shoes off violently, then shucks his jeans and boxer briefs, only managing to get them off of his left leg before Cas reaches for him.

“Grab my bag, in the front pocket.” He indicates the dusty duffel bag hanging on the door of Impala’s stall and Dean goes for it, finding a strip of condoms and a bottle of lube inside. Dean is grateful that Cas didn’t pull the ‘baby, I’m clean, trust me’ routine. Grinning, he turns around only to see Cas looking sexier than ever. Thick thighs spread over the sides of the bench, his shirt splayed open and hat cocked on his messy hair, as expected. Cas has succeeded in mostly stripping off his jeans, leaving him in one boot and one sock and one pair of blue panties.

Dean swallows thickly. “Um.”

“What do you think? Should I leave these on, too?” Cas teases him, reaching out to stroke Dean’s cock where it is standing proudly in front of him. Dean chokes on his tongue.

“They’re great,” he says, slowly straddling Cas once more. “So great. You look…great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Cas kisses him smoothly. “You’re so pretty like this.” Runs his warm hands up Dean’s thighs. “Pretty and all mine.”

Dean hesitates just slightly, but he doesn’t turn away from their kissing. As if he could really _be Cas’s_ like he wants to. This is their one night, though, and he ought to make the most of it.

For all of his obvious interest, Cas moves so much slower than Dean had anticipated. The condom and lube sit untouched for a little while longer while Cas touches Dean _everywhere._ It makes Dean feel…precious, almost. Like Cas is savoring this, too.

Pressed together like this, Dean can feel Cas’s erection against his through the blue satin of his panties. He moves his hips in Cas’s lap, moaning at the feeling, clutching Cas’s shoulders for leverage. Cas takes Dean’s ass in his hands and squeezes, running his tongue along the roof of Dean’s mouth before he trails a dry finger around Dean’s hole.

“Want you so much,” Cas says, reaching back for the lube. He expertly pours it onto his fingers behind Dean’s back, still kissing him fiercely. “Do you want me, too?”

“Yeah.” Dean pants. “Yeah, of course I do. I can’t believe how much,” he admits.

“M’so lucky,” Cas groans and finally presses his finger into Dean. “You’re so tight, fuck.”

Dean whines, bouncing a little even while Cas holds him close. His legs dangle over the sides of the bench, splayed out over the top of Cas’s thighs. He’s still got one boot on and his fucking jeans hanging off of one leg, his shirt only rucked up to his middle, and he’s never been this turned on in his life. Cas’s angel wings lay against his heaving chest, pressed between them with every grind of their bodies.

“Look so hot,” Dean tells him, “wanted you all day.”

“Even on the train, huh?” Cas goads him. “You wanted to ride me just like this even then, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean whines, gasping with pleasure when a second finger breaches him. “Your thighs and your hat and your scruff, oh my _God.”_

“Somebody’s got a cowboy kink, is that right baby?” Cas kisses him far more gently than Dean was expecting. “That’s good, because you’re just my type, too.”

Dean’s hips stutter, remembering with perfectly painful clarity all the times before that a big, tough guy like Cas has talked out his ass about Dean being _his type._ But he doesn’t let it slow him down, instead cupping Cas’s cheeks and kissing him again, focusing on the sensation of being stretched around thick fingers and the warm skin of their torsos.

Then, Cas gives him a third finger. He’s a little surprised with all the preparation, but maybe Cas just likes to be thorough? Gets off on the foreplay as well?

It occurs to Dean that he hasn’t been taking very good care of Cas all this time, and he reaches down to touch his dick. Cas shivers when Dean runs his fingers down his shaft, when he cups Cas’s balls, and when he moves the panties to the side in order to get his hands on the flushed and smooth skin. Cas responds by moving his fingers with even more intent than before, rubbing Dean’s prostate and making him cry out.

“So good,” Dean says, head thrown back. With Cas’s lips and teeth attached to his neck, Dean pants and fucks his hips back on Cas’s hand. He’s so ready for this he won’t even mind the change of position.

But then, Cas does yet _another_ unexpected thing. Using his left hand, he pries open the condom packet and throws it down with gusto. Dean helps him roll it down snugly, but Cas doesn’t move to stand up when it’s on. Instead, he lifts Dean up like he doesn’t weigh a damn thing, and he angles their bodies together in such a way that when Dean rocks down, the head of Cas’s dick enters him, making him gasp.

“Cas, are you sure?” he asks, “like this?”

“Yes, baby, I’m sure,” Cas replies, “I want you to ride me, and I want to worship you, and I want to see your beautiful eyes when you come for me.” With that, he pulls Dean down into his lap. With kisses like fire, Cas fucks up into him again and again. Dean is sure he’s _never_ experienced sex like this before.

Cas’s hands never leave his body. They climb under his shirt to rub his nipples, calloused fingers touch the soft skin of his perineum, both making him scream quite loudly. Dean tries his best to keep kissing and touching Cas, to keep talking to him, praising him, but it’s hard to remain focused on the words. He’s so blissed out, so high on Cas’s touches, taste, and sounds; he maintains his praise, describing just how good Dean is making him feel, how perfect Dean looks riding him, how he could do this all night and be happy.

Dean’s orgasm rushes up from the tips of his toes to the base of his spine, winding around him and releasing with a jolt. He comes with his cock pressed against Cas’s abdomen, semen landing on the soft skin there as well as dripping onto those beautiful panties. And all the while, Dean sobs and moans. He collapses forward, arms wrapped around Cas’s shoulders, his head bent. He’s slightly worried about smothering Cas when, suddenly, Cas goes stiff beneath him. Sunk all the way inside his ass, Cas is coming hard into the condom.

Dean shudders and relaxes against Cas’s body when he feels Cas do the same. He’s wrapped his arms around Dean’s back, rubbing it gently with his clean hand. All Dean wants to do now is sleep but, unfortunately, they’ll need to stumble through this subsequent awkward goodbye situation before he can crawl into bed and pass out.

The doubt has settled in already. He’d been too selfish, he hadn’t talked dirty enough for Cas, he’d been too noisy or not noisy enough, _something_ must have gone wrong. Maybe he’ll never find out, maybe Cas isn’t the type to offer “constructive feedback” on random sexual encounters. Maybe Cas will just offer him a wet wipe and send him on his way, doomed to dream about (and masturbate to) this one encounter for the rest of his life.

“That was nice,” he says honestly. Cas snorts a laugh before agreeing, his nose pressed into Dean’s short hair.

Dean doesn’t want to seem clingy, so he takes the initiative to get up first. Standing next to the bench and pulling up his pants, Dean feels more embarrassed than ever. He quickly tucks his foot into the stray boot and barely acknowledges his soft and sensitive dick as he puts himself away. He’s doing up his belt when Cas’s hand touches his. Not forcefully, but enough to make him pause. Dean hesitates before looking up at him.

Cas smiles lazily at him. “I can show you where the bathroom is, Dean, so we can get cleaned up decently before we go back upstairs. I am sorry for the inconvenience,” he says, but he doesn’t appear to be too remorseful. “Next time, I’ll do my level best to get us a nice bed.”

Next time? Dean stares at Cas in confusion. But Cas doesn’t seem to notice; he’s got his jeans and boots back on and doesn’t bother buttoning up, he just takes Dean’s hand and leads him a few doors down to the men’s room. There, they wet paper towels and attempt to look presentable. Dean is already dreading going back upstairs, facing the other cowboys and sponsors. He’ll have to lie a little bit to Benny and then make him keep quiet until he can explain, but he knows what this looks like. Just another desperate fanboy willing to spread his legs for anyone, and what real reason would Cas have to say no? He probably gets laid in every town…

“Dean?” Cas smiles at him and takes his hand again. “Ready to head out? We’ll have to go back upstairs first, but then maybe you can show me around a little bit. I don’t have to be back here until tomorrow evening.” He’s very confused now but follows anyway.

He’s also surprised that Cas doesn’t drop his hand but he’s certainly not going to mention it. Everyone they walk past looks at them strangely, which Dean absolutely does not know how to interpret. Cas is about to push open the door to the lounge when Dean comes to his senses and tugs his hand back. Cas freezes and looks back with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he manages, “I should’ve asked you first if you would be okay with that. I wasn’t thinking.” Cas looks somewhat contrite. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Before Cas can open the door, Dean blurts out, “what are you doing?” Cas’s face changes from confusion to shock and what might be sadness? “I mean…I don’t—” Dean rubs a hand over his mouth. “What do you mean ‘next time’ and ‘show you around’? I don’t really want the pity,” he says. “This was awesome but I knew going in how this would end.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Cas argues, brow furrowing now. He squares his shoulders. “This wasn’t just getting my dick wet, Dean, I actually, genuinely _like you,_ and would very much like to date you, as a matter of fact.”

“You…what?”

“Am I not being clear enough?” Cas steps forward into Dean’s space and brings one hand up to brush his fingers over Dean’s cheekbone. His voice softens and he says, “I’m really very sure that I don’t want this to be goodbye forever. And I don’t think you want that either.” Dean blushes and he doesn’t deny it—it’s true, after all. “You’re pretty perfect, you know that?”

Dean’s brain screeches to a halt. Cas thinks _he’s perfect?_ After they’ve talked twice and fucked like horny teenagers in an honest-to-God stable?

“I…don’t think you actually mean that,” he says.

“I am very sure I do,” Cas retorts, the stubborn bastard. His fingers move through Dean’s hair gently. “If you really never want to see me again, tell me, and I’ll leave you alone, I swear. But…” He trails off, biting his lip. “If you think there’s a chance, if we could give this a try, I’d love to prove you wrong.

“Jesus,” Dean mutters. This is like something out of a stupid Hallmark movie. Not that Dean watches those, of course.

Cas kisses his temple, interrupting his train of thought. “You must be tired. Maybe you should go home and get your beauty rest?”

“Says the hot professional athlete.” Dean snorts. “Aren’t you the one who should be going to bed?”

“Perhaps,” Cas allows, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that I give you my phone number so that you can call me tomorrow about going on a date. I need the good publicity, you know. Getting photographed out and about with some arm candy.”

Dean smacks him but they’re both grinning. Too hard for a proper kiss when Cas leans in the rest of the way, but they make it work.

They always do.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback in the form of kudos and comments are appreciated! And/or reblogs, if you tumble.
> 
> [fic on tumblr](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/174441880714/) and [art on tumblr](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/post/174443528363/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Saddle Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813465) by [foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley)




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